Parallels & Divergence
by suckittrebec
Summary: PostStD, preGrad:Kim and Shego have more in common then they would dare admit. But how deep does that link go & what made the difference? Ghosts from Shego's past return & the world is driven to disaster. Which wins out? The similarity, or the contrast?
1. Prologue

Well, here we go. Please review, but be gentle. This is my first published piece of work.

Disclaimer: (Yea, I've read enough to know I need this) Don't own the Kim Possible series, nor any of the characters or story lines therein. I also don't own Hamlet, but thats in public domain by now. I do not own, nor do I have have any professional association with the US military, or its post-humus support services. (although if George W is interested in selling, I'd love to have all those M-1 tanks and Apache choppers at my beck and call) This story is entirely my own work. That being said, let me give a big thank you to all the authors of KP fanfic that came before me, particularly the work in the "Comet Showers and Monkey Powers" C2. Whenever I need inspiration, or a good adjective, I know where to go.

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Prologue: Consequences

A young lady cut through a cool Sunday afternoon on a quiet suburban sidewalk completely lost in her own thoughts. It was late autumn, the temperature already dropping enough to allow her to see her breathe amongst the browning leaves that bracketed the street. However, up until late, her life had been considerably more biting than the unseasonably cold air that kicked up her long shining locks of hair, she having recently found herself boyfriend-less in the worst sort of way. She took a small comfort that although the pain she felt over the breakup was still present, the reasons for the action left her undeniably vindicated in it. The pragmatic re-evaluation of life that usually comes with the realization that an infatuation was not the love that one thought it was had also yielded her the presence of mind to find many of her other relationships in similar, and far more shame inducing, shambles.

_ So not what I had imagined life after high school would be like. _She thought, more than a little bitterness finding its way into her internal monologue. The emotional upheavals that had plagued the last few months of her life were taking their toll on the recent escapee of grade school education, with her college GPA, job, and self esteem all suffering the consequences.

_ I can't believe how much of a mess I've made of things... if only I had just listened to _him. The usually willfully resolute girl was reluctant to register of the name of whom she was currently thinking, although that particular "him" was the inspiration for the trek in which she was presently engaged. Of all the terrible mistakes she had made while under the intoxicating influence of the heart fever, he, the one who would have done anything for her, at any time, in any place, no questions asked, no holds barred, had borne the brunt of her tactless pursuit of monogamous perfection.

_ But now I'm going to make things right again._ This thought bolstered her resolve, and she quickened her pace towards his house. He would not be there, unfortunately; a result of the brutally selfish choices she had made was his beating a retreat to lands overseas. But soon she would convince him he need not flee to nurse his wounded heart any longer. Her recent attempts to contact him had not received a reply, until she had found a message on her pager from his father asking her to come over to their house as quickly as she was able. The message had not alluded to the point of this meeting, but she had concluded, albeit without any evidence, that it was a positive sign. Perhaps he wanted to talk to her directly, and knowing his tendency to be anything but demanding, would split his time between her and his rents to make best use of his allowed long distance air time.

_ Oh yes, things will be different this time. _She knew she was lucky that he was granting her this chance to reconcile, and that she would be luckier still if she could manage to repair the damage she had done, but perhaps she was luckiest in that she was dealing with a man that the words _remarkable amongst the incredible_ failed to describe even his most trivial qualities. Through the lens of hindsight, it was all she could do but not strike herself for not realizing this sometime in the 14 odd years she called him her best friend. Perhaps it was with this protracted view that she now compared him to other men she had once considered perfect that had brought the full breadth of her feelings about him to the surface, and if so it was the one good she could take from her failed relationship.

Bearing these new emotional facts in mind, she took a moment to prepare herself for the likely aspects of the conversation that awaited her just beyond the maple-wood door she had arrived at. She readily accepted the possibility that he might be inclined to spend a while _discussing_ the less than admirable aspects of her behavior towards him in the months past, in theory at least. Still, her temper was legendary, so she made provisions to combat the urge to strike back verbally should it arise. In the same strand, apologizing was not an activity she often found herself partaking in, and she felt another unfamiliar sensation creeping into her mind, fear.

_ He's worth more than my pride. _She scolded. _And it's not as if he would even entertain the idea of holding this over my head. He's above that. _Her largest concern, however, was the double edge that her pronouncement of how different things will be this time could turn out to represent, in that things may never be the same. In many ways this would be a fate worse than outright rejection, the torture of existing amicably with him, but forever outside the blissful realm of absolute trust and love that they had once shared, without even the protection of the self-righteous hate that his refusal to forgive her would likely generate. _How could I blame him for not wanting to open himself up again to a selfish witch of a girl like me? He has every right to take his time in allowing me back into his life, has earned the right to test my commitment after my choices. And if he finds me wanting, I will accept the honour in simply being one of his friends, if not his best friend. _There was a flaw with the last aspect of her argument and it gave rise to a paradoxical situation where she had to seriously weigh the value of the potential exponential increase in her happiness against the risk she presented to his. It would be up to her to enforce her own imprisonment in this pseudo-hell on the boarder of heaven should it be best for him, even against his own wishes. Knowing his supreme awareness of how even the slightest action could affect people and his penchant for heroic self sacrifice, she worried that he might have considered the pain that proximity without acceptance might cause her, and had decided to forgo his own reservations, as he had many times before, for her comfort. So, as much as she might come to regret this decision later on, she would have to put on a flawless performance to convince him that she was content with what he was willing to offer her. And even this would hardly grant her a snowballs chance in hell of allowing him the relief he so richly deserved, should the recommencement of their high school friendship not occur in full. She was hardly a poor actress (in fact it was an understatement to say she had a world class bluffing game in poker) but she had her doubts on whether or not she could pull the wool over his eyes for even an instant, he knew her tells far too well. However, this particular concern would be something she would have to evaluate far in the future, assuming she could even take the first step without stumbling. _I'm the girl that can do anything, except try to bring my best friend back into my life. _She thought, this time with more mirth than bile, and knocked on the door. But, in the instant that the door opened, all the cautious hopes that she had been nursing evaporated.

A palpable atmosphere of despair seemed to pour from the house through the doorway, which negated the slight warmth that the air within would have normally brought forth. Instead, a cold shiver penetrated the layers she was wrapped in, as if her soul was suddenly thrust into a blizzard. Looking into the face of the man she could consider her second father, she was stunned and frightened that she could scarcely recognize him, although she could not place which feature seemed off. He silently ushered her into the house, and despite the strong and unexplainable aura of sorrow that seemed to seep from the home's very walls, she followed.

She wanted to reach out, to ask what was so clearly wrong, but her words failed her, and she merely traced his path through the hallway towards the kitchen. Memories, some on the forefront of her consciousness, others long forgotten, began to replay in her mind. Most were carefree, a scarce few were gloomy in the beginning, but had always found a way to resolve themselves, but all were wonderfully familiar and comforting, or should have been if they were not overpowered by the intangible but all encompassing sense of anguish.

This conflict of emotions was so overwhelming that she almost walked into her guide, who had halted and was staring into a wall mounted photograph so intensely he seemed to be lost in. She recognized it as a snapshot of senior year, one that she was particularly fond of, because the frame contained both _him_ and her, in the innocent ecstasy of one another's arms. Suddenly, the statue-like form of his father lashed out at the picture, his fist splintering the glass and driving it deeply into his knuckles. If he felt the pain, he did not express it. He placed his arm against the wall, and rested his head against it, completely ignorant of the blood that was flowing freely from his wounded hand.

"Such a waste..." he murmured, agony dripping in every syllable. The girl stood shell-shocked. Her mouth open and closed in succession, words still maliciously abandoning her. Emerald eyes fell upon a crinkled piece of paper that had fallen from the hand of the wretched human-being that stood before her and had come to rest near her foot. She picked it up, and unfolded it in a combination of reverence and terror. For some reason, she felt as if it was a focal point of this suffering, an intuition confirmed with horrendous accuracy upon her reading of its script, and her world came crashing down. If the ambience of the house was enough to cause her severe discomfort, the comprehension of its cause was enough to convince her that every single bone in her body was simultaneously shattered, and her heart torn from its resting place in her chest and set against a bench grinder. She sank to her knees, glancing into the living room and noting the neatly folded stars and stripes on the coffee table, with a green beret sitting atop it. In the hysteria that was beginning to beset her mind, she re-read the paper, as if it would be revealed that she had somehow misunderstood its meaning. But as she processed the first lines, there could be no doubt.

_ "...it is with my deepest regret and sympathy that I must inform you that in the service of his country, and the defense of peace and liberty, your son was killed in action on October 19__th__ 1999. He did so exemplifying the very greatest forms of heroism and selflessness, and in his sacrifice he saved the lives of nine brothers in arms and countless civilians..." _The words of implacable praise would not have surprised the young woman if she could focus on such aspects of the narrative of the letter, as they matched her earlier sentiments. But she was beyond any cognitive thought at this point, wrapped in the fetal position sobbing relentlessly into her palms. There would be no reconciliation, no redemption, no realization of the new found depths of her love. He had gone to his grave without ever knowing of her regret, of her desire to make things right, and beyond that he had gone on to brave "that undiscovered country" _because of her_. Her hopes, dreams, her very life collapsing around her, she sought escape. Escape from the walls of this nightmarish edifice that had once bore her so much happiness and now oversaw the blossoming in her of such absolute misery, escape from the city that they had both grown up in, escape from the very life that they had once shared. So the young hero ran. For the first time in her life, confronted with an enemy she had no hope of combating, let alone defeating, Shego ran.

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So... did I have anyone convinced it was Kim's head we were in? Remember, I'd love to have feedback. 


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Kim Possible nor do I wish to infringe upon any of Disney's copy-rited property. The plot, and original characters, however, are all mine.

Sorry for the wait to anyone who read the prologue. University has a way of sucking up every second of spare time I might have. Speaking of time, we move up to the era of the regular series here. Enjoy, and please review.

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Chapter 1: Possible-ly Outdone 

The sun shone brightly across the broad horizon of the Rocky Mountain Range, wrapping the breathtaking scenery in a comfortably warm embrace. The pristine peaks and valleys of the Sunshine Ski Resort, Banff, Alberta, Canada, were bustling with the usual pre-Christmas traffic of skiers, snowboarders, and snow bladers trying to fully enjoy the temperate swing in the weather that defied the usually frigid climate of the prairies in late November. That is, all excepting the North face. It was an intimidating bowl, where the line between slope and precipice blurred, home to the majority of the hill's single and double black diamonds, and the hill-top chalet, which rested high atop the summit. It was strangely un-groomed, the powder snow allowed to pile up, and blow into drifts at Mother Nature's whim. It also lacked the usual entourage of adrenaline junkies, speed freaks, drunken college frat boys with something to prove, and terrified beginners who somehow managed to board the wrong lift. That is, except two. One was of the death defying, push-it-to-the-limit-and-then-some variety, while the other was just trying to get down alive. Kim Possible, world renowned teenaged hero, astride a goofie-footed, hot pink freestyle snowboard cut through the deep powder expertly, carving smoothly around a grouping of trees into a gully. Her trailer was one Ron Stoppable, who fit somewhere into the category of street-renowned or less, despite his critical involvement in 99 percent of his partner's world saving activities, and a few of his own. He, wearing a pair of green Head high-performance skis, clipped the lead tree in a poorly executed snow-plow break manoeuvre, and was sent sprawling over the gully lip. The blonde yard-saled upon impact with a hidden mound of naturally packed snow and lay there, trying to catch the breath which had just been driven from his lungs. Luckily, instead of cutting straight down the valley, Kim had moved laterally across it, utilizing the natural half-pipe to switch, and had seen Ron's less than graceful landing. She smiled at his hopeless clumsiness, and glided to her boyfriend's side. She was unable to resist the urge to bury him with snow, however, and laughed as the introduction of frozen water onto Ron's exposed legs (his pants had, seemly without reason, but with his unusual history, not surprisingly, fallen down) roused him immediately.

"KP! That's soooo cold! Why Kim, Why?" He cried, batting the ice crystals from his skin. Rufus, naked mole rat and member 2.5 of Team Possible-Stoppable, crawled from the pants pilled around Ron's ankles, shivering intensely, his expression mirroring his owners.

"I thought you might have gotten tired of being so hot." Kim replied playfully. Ron's complaining ceased immediately, his cheeks turning a slightly deeper shade of red over his wind scorched skin. Kim giggled lightly as he pulled his pants back up, grimacing as the snow which had made its way into its folds came into contact with his freezing legs.

_ At least he doesn't straight up pass out when I hit on him anymore. _She mused. It had been six months to the day since Jr. Prom and the pair's mutual realisation of their feelings for one another. While she loved Ron to death, and he had no trouble with the tender, romantic side of the relationship, the part that young girls through to women bemoaned was beyond the impulse driven mind of their masculine companions, he was simply too innocent minded to be the driving force behind anything less chivalrous. Kim had had to slowly introduce Ron to the idea of the more cardinal aspects of dating, and dismantling the carved-ivory pedestal he had placed her on. To be blunt, he needed to see her as less of an object of worship, and, at least on occasion, treat her simply as an _object,_ or at least that was how Monique had phrased it. It was by definition, truly a labour of love, and Kim had no qualms about guiding him along, even if at times it was frustrating and embarrassing.

Like the time in August at the beach, where a bikini clad Kim had suggested that Ron apply tanning lotion to her back. He had obliged, after a brief trance, until Kim had unclasped her top to afford him better access to the portion of her back it had covered. He had promptly collapsed backwards into the sand, a stupid grin plastered to his face but no sign of life in his eyes. After slapping his cheek gently, then progressively harder, had failed, Kim had rushed him home where, with much alk-weirdness she had had to explain the entire incident to her mother. Anne Possible was barely able to control her laugher as she pieced together what had transpired, which furthered Kim's discomfort. And to add injury to insult, her father had returned home just as she arrived at the part of the story involving her removing her top. Ron had awoken at this point too, as if the danger that currently threatened his unconscious form had somehow reached through the haze to activate his fight or flight mechanism. Upon seeing the look of fast building fatherly rage rising on James Possible's face, he wisely had chosen flight.

Ron did not join the Possibles for supper or any non-daylight activates where a large crowd of witnesses was not present for several weeks afterwards, until Kim had ordered Wade to perform a full scan the house for any of the equipment necessary for sending a 17 year old boy into a black hole, and she had convinced the blonde that her family did not own any guns. But now he was progressing at a much more satisfying tack, and Kim had recently found herself in the "intimates" section of Club Banana, daydreaming naughtily.

Coming back to the present, she helped Ron in the retrieval of his lost articles of clothing, and they resumed their patrol. Kim and Ron had been called upon, on direct presidential order no less, to augment the neutral defence of the international summit taking place in the hilltop chalet as they skied the bowl below it. It was the culmination of the START III talks, a face to face meeting of all nuclear arms possessing nations in an attempt to once again begin weapons reductions, update restrictions and re-establish commitments against both horizontal and vertical proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. Perhaps the most novel and unique part of these talks was the inclusion of a clause that saw each nation bring a number mobile launch command mechanisms from their own arsenals to the ratification ceremony. The minimum number required depended upon the total stockpile each nation had. Obviously, the United States and Russia had had to bring the largest collection, about 15 each, while countries like France, Britain, Israel, India, etc. had to produce only 5 or 6. The weapons each device were coded to were to all be deactivated with the rest of the "nuclear family" present to witness the act. The hope was that this first tentative step would establish the foundation of trust in equitable compliance that similar prior negotiations lacked, which had ultimately lead to the retardation or outright failure of the START I&II and SALT I&II treaties. The endgame of the talks was just getting started, the delegates probably milling about, engaging in the incessantly pleasant lie-through-your-teeth politesse of international politics that neither Kim nor Ron could stand, while each envoy's tech team were going through the tedious process of verifying the authenticity of every one of the "footballs", an operation that proudly flew the flag of needless bureaucratic repetition. Once it was established that the impressive stacks of brushed aluminum suitcases contained uplinks were in fact connected to live nuclear weapons, the negotiations could wrap up upon their disarmament, and further political horn-blowing and patting of one's own administration's back could commence, likely continuing long into the night.

It was this fact that had driven the duo to volunteer for foot patrol with much abandon, more than willing to enjoy the pleasant weather and ski conditions that had brought the rest of Middleton High School's senior class on the ski trip, although they had been restricted to the open zones of the hill. Being "allowed" on the extreme portion of the resort, made positively insane with the _au natural _condition that had been encouraged of the snow really made Ron question how relaxing this vacation was turning out to be, but Kim was in her element, and seeing her enjoy herself was more than enough to blot out anything less than the most imposing consideration of his health.

_ It's a mission. _Ron repeated to himself. _Can't cop out on KP on a mission. Even though I could be enjoying a steaming cup of hot chocolate right now instead of freezing my face off. _

Kim lead Ron down a trail bisecting the steep slope above, heading towards the upper terrain park, the only part of the North Face that bucked the trend of chaos and was groomed. The condition of the hill was an aspect of the defence of the summit, intended to make a ground assault by protesters or more insidious groups on the chalet and the precious objects within as difficult as possible. As all of the world's major powers were involved, and the negotiations were taking place well within the safe air space of 'fortress North America', an airborne offensive was deemed unlikely, so only minimal on-site provisions were made for such an event, present in a Griffin helicopter gunship. All nearby airfields were shut down for the day, and private flights from the major airport located in Calgary, restricted. The 'catastrophic response' air support was located at a removed Canadian airbase, a 15 minute hop time at MACH 2. The location of the meetings was chosen for its balance of isolation and suitable amenities, while Canada's nuclear neutrality made it an excellent choice as mediator. In fact, Kim was not entirely sure Team Possible's presence was necessary. Nuclear weapons were far too passé for the villains she usually dealt with, but one does not refuse an order from the federal executive branch lightly.

As they approached the park, however, the auburn haired beauty noted something amiss in well defined skidoo tracks. Not produced by the CATS that the security units were utilizing, which had two parallel tracks, but a single pack straddled by the dual channels left by the skis. Alerted to a possible threat, Kim put aside her private thoughts and prepared for the worst. As she peaked the ridge that overlooked the terrain park, she cut into the trees and lay there, observing a group of five sunning themselves at the top of the half pipe, and the skidoo's that were responsible for the tracks she had seen sitting at the bottom. Her experienced eye could detect no objects which might be weapons, and her suspicions lessened somewhat, but she still felt it prudent to report this unexpected activity in. After all, there were plenty of places to have stashed such weapons if the operation was planned with enough foresight. A somewhat less likely but no less potent threat was that to these operatives, firearms were unnecessary. And to Kim, these 'less likely' situations always seemed to crop up.

She had only just begun to speak into her walkie-talkie, issued to her by the security force for direct contact, when the group downhill of her turned and looked towards her general vicinity. It took only a moment to realise why as, with a duet scream from human and naked mole rat vocal chords, Ron arched skyward off a natural kicker, Rufus clinging quite literally for his life on the end of the blonde's long toque. He pirouetted, executing a perfect backscratcher, before beginning to flail madly. Noticing that the ground was rushing up towards him, Ron pulled the rip cord on his parachute, which Kim had insisted, and Ron now thanked God she had, they wear in case of cliff-breaches. This arrested his fall, allowing him a soft landing, directly at the feet of the group Kim had been observing from her vantage point. She had, in her tunnel vision-ed analysis, completely lost track of the blonde haired dufus. Sighing at the loss of cover that he was so often responsible for, the red headed hero slid down hill to join him. As she approached, she took stock of the group in the greater detail her decreased distance permitted. All five were male, above 5'8", builds ranging from lean to broad-shouldered and barrel chested. They looked to be as a group at least 5 years her and Ron's senior, fully developed patches of whiskers present on all their faces, from untrimmed morning stubble to well groomed chin-straps. Three were white skinned, although well tanned, one was of Asian descent, and rounding out the group was an African American, who loomed overhead of Kim by at least half a foot. Four were styled in the outlandish fashion that was expected of snow boarders, each wearing chromed goggles or sunglasses, and flashy, attention grabbing colors, some borderline offensively so. One of the Caucasian boys had an exposed Mohawk, the oriental a multi-tipped toque, and the other two wore heavily stickered crash helmets. Standing out somewhat from the motley crew was the final individual, who was clad in a winter-camo jacket, and a matching Vietnam vintage infantry helmet. A massive pair of mirrored Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, as well as the remaining upper half of his face, and a tooth pick sat lazily in a loose grin. They had helped Ron to his feet as Kim arrived, one of them already releasing his chute so he was not picked up by a gust of wind. They laughed good-naturedly with him while brushing the newly accumulated snow off and collecting his dropped poles.

"That could have been one hell of a biff, Stoppable," one of them said. Kim could see from across the group that the correct pronunciation of his name had left Ron stunned. He was, up until his recently garnered fame from being the starting running back on the football team, almost been unknown within the walls of his own school as a senior, and despite his considerable contributions to Team Possible, it was Kim who received all the international air time and media accolades. Not that he minded, but she was certain he would be lying to himself if the recognition was not gratifying, and surprising. "And Kim Possible! Who woulda thunk it that we would be able to shred some powder with Team Possible-Stoppable, eh?"

Unlike Ron, Kim was not impressed by the group. Their friendly demeanour and flattery notwithstanding, they were well within the boundaries of a secure site. They may not have seemed violent, but her directive was to defend the meetings against well meaning protesters as well, and Kim doubted this was the case. Something about them, particularly the standout dressed in camouflage, rang warning bells in her head, and she proceeded to address them in the business-like manor she reserved for persons' whom intentions she did not trust.

"Gentlemen, this is a restricted sight. I'm not sure who you are, or how you managed to make it up this far without being stopped, but you aren't supposed to be here. I'm going to have to ask you to return to the open areas of the hill." She recited, keeping her voice curt, leaving no room for interpretation of her statement. She could see that the group was taken aback by her lack of appreciation for their affability.

_ Either they aren't a threat, or they're underestimating me. Not a bad draw, Possible._She thought to herself. The tall dark skinned man spoke up, his voice somewhat more serious than it had been before.

"We have permission to be here despite the summit, Miss Possible. This is the middle of training season, and as important as these talks are, we can't afford to fall behind by even a week."

"I'd like to see those documents, then." Kim replied, not convinced.

_ Even if I buy that these guys are part of some team, this isn't the only hill they can practice at. If they aren't for real, they'll bolt._

"They're in the sleds at the bottom of the pipe." The camo-wearing boarder said, speaking for the first time. His voice was strong, commanding attention but not simply through volume. It was an underlying current that only well established self-certainty could bring. If they were a strike team, this was the leader, Kim decided. His voice taking on a slightly condescending edge, he continued. "Let's see if you are as good as CNN says you are. Give her a run guys, but go easy."

_ Go easy? Who does this guy think he's dealing with? _Whatever the likelihood of danger these individuals presented, Kim's ego could not refuse such a blatant challenge. If they were indeed agents, they would be making a grave strategic error in surrendering the high ground to her, even if it was just an attempt for them to get to their skidoos to escape. This meant she could afford to play along, because they obviously were not that great a threat if they did not recognise their rather large mistake in basic tactics, even less so if they disrespected her skill to such a degree. And if they were indeed simply a boarder team, this would provide them an excellent lesson in humility. She snapped down her goggles, signalling her agreement.

The group took position on the lip of the half pipe. It was an Olympic standard size, overall a fairly uncreative affair excepting the very end, where it looked as if the strangers had altered it slightly. The aberration took the form of a small overhang extended out over the pipe, very much like an inverted kicker. Kim considered it, uncertain of whether or not she should try using it. She decided to play it by ear. While she was fairly sure she could utilize it, unless her opponents opted to she wouldn't risk an untried variable which could embarrass her as much as it could set her apart. Besides which, she was confident enough in her standard set of tricks to overcome these hot shots without reaching into the exotic.

The Caucasian male in the helmet went first, dropping seamlessly into the feature and when he completed a method 720 on the other side, Kim realised this was going to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. He linked together several more expert tricks, and upon reaching the bottom, the auburn haired hero was certain he would have received 8.5 to 9 had professional judges been present.

_ Okay. He must be their ringer. _Kim thought to herself, in an uncharacteristic moment of self-doubt. However, in the same thought she recalled her assessment of the camouflaged "leader," and she feared this was only the beginning. Her prediction was proven correct, as one after the other, the strangers completed world class routines, leaving Ron, the camo-clad man, and a somewhat stunned, but impressed and determined cheerleader at the top. She might have been the one who had been underestimating her opponents, who had defiantly proven that their confidence was light-years from baseless, but she would be damned if she was going to just roll over and admit defeat. She mounted the ledge, taking a moment to pre-plan her routine, and entered the half-pipe.

(-) (-) (-)

As Kim took to the air on the other side, starting with a stale-fish 540, Ron slid to the side of the boy wearing aviators, who was still top-side working on his board.

"Who did you say you guys were?" He asked. He knew Kim well enough to tell from her body language that she now was not nearly as confident as she had been at the beginning of this impromptu competition. Not being an expert in anything Nordic, he was not sure of the difficulty of the tricks being preformed, but could sense from Kim's reaction that they were fairly impressive. And, having struck on the same intuitive sense of this man's commanding personality, Ron was willing to bet he would have an explanation for his groups uncanny skill.

"I hadn't." He replied, all the condescension dropped from his voice, a momentary ploy, it would seem, to goad the young super agent into a friendly contest. "We're with Canada's Olympic team." He offered Ron his hand. "I'm Ean."

_ That would explain a-lot. _Ron thought, taking Ean's hand. He saw his reflection in the mirrored lenses, and quickly hid the dumbfounded look that adorned his face. He returned his gaze to his girlfriend, and for the first time he could remember felt as if she might actually be challenged by anyone other than Shego. Kim was more than halfway down the pipe now, just completing a double front-flip. She landed smoothly, and picked up speed for her final trick, which turned out to be a 1080.

(-) (-) (-)

As she came into the landing zone, Kim felt the weight of concern lift from her shoulders. She had pulled it off, out-doing the formidable performances of the boys that had gone before her, confirmed as they gathered around to congratulating her. They may have been a teensy bit arrogant, but they were willing to freely admit that even by their standards she had just completed a spectacular run. She was so pleased with the result she allowed herself to accept the praise, and put aside her suspicions. This was a moment where she had faced and overcome a challenge in the normal, teenaged world that had pushed her limits, had made her sweat. An opportunity that in her all too irregular life was in far too short supply. Even though this did not come close to ranking amongst her greatest achievements, it was special for that reason none the less.

Although she did not express it in the slightest, she was disappointed when the group turned their gazes uphill once again, until she realised that there was still one competitor who had yet to throw down. Blushing slightly at her lapse, which was due largely to the focus it had required to execute her program, she joined them. The white and black helmeted boy finished strapping up, spat his tooth-pick out, and slid off the ledge. As he crossed the trough, he seemed to pick up more speed than the distance he covered should have permitted, and what Kim had believed to be a hard-won victory began to come apart at the seams with his first trick. He mounted the opposing side of the pipe, shooting himself several almost a full 3 feet higher than Kim, or any of his compatriots for that matter, had been able to, and inverted for a rodeo 900. He followed that up with a double grab 720, a double back-flip, and a dinner roll, which he landed on the tail of the board. He rode the stall for a short while before performing a flat-land 360, and climbing the pipe-wall but burning the jump in preparation for his final trick, building speed as he approached the specialized feature. He hit the inverted kicker, and rain-bowed upside down, completing 3 and a-half-rotations before landing on the opposite side of the pipe, having completed a full loop. He hit the brakes, blanketing all those waiting at the bottom in a cloud of ice crystals. It was a lucky turn of events for the teenaged heroine, as it masked the flabbergasted look plastered on her face until she could recompose herself. She doubted even Shego or Monkey Fist could have pulled off that bit of acrobatics, and as the snow settled, she gave the boy with the Mohawk who stood beside her a questioning glance. He only smiled knowingly towards her. It had never been in question who would have prevailed, although Kim had earned their respect in her impressive, and ultimately fruitless resistance. As he unbuckled, the other white male exclaimed to the camouflaged wonder.

"You rode that goofy?! But your regular!! Jesus Ean, that's amazing, even for you." Freed of his bindings, Ean stood and approached Kim, whose mouth was once again agape at the admission of his self-imposed handicap. If he noticed her look, he didn't care. He removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of ice blue eyes and took her limp hand, shaking it.

"That was a sick run, darlin', you put these guys to shame. If I may say so, you are defiantly all that." He said, earning him a rare post-varsity-Mankey-crush blush from Kimberly. She may have had her reservations before, but his congratulations to her even in his victory convinced her that he did not merit her distrust.

"Who are you?" She asked, a measure of her disbelief finding its way into her question.

"My name's Ean Vincible. It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Possible." He replied. Kim found herself again blushing slightly, and was about to apologise for her unfriendly conduct earlier when a violent explosion echoed through the pass. The group turned uphill quickly, in time to see a massive fireball rising from where the upper section of the Northern Face chairlift had moments ago been standing, and watched it collapse in a blast of snow and ice. Things had just gotten interesting.

* * *

Thats if for now. I'll do my best to get the next parts up faster than this one did, I have some down time coming up that should help to that end. 


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Do not own characters or general genera concepts of Kim Possible, or any of Disney's property. Plot and original characters are mine.

Ah, the joy of creating my own character. Say hello to Ean Vincible, I'm sure you will learn to love him. Or possibly hate him. Generally how it goes I guess when you throw a new character into an already established series. But, sometimes that is necessary for developing a storyline. And sometimes its just fun to do. Ean is a mix of both. But he's not just there on some egotistical whim. In the scope of the story, he is critical. Now, any of you who might have been chapped about him outdoing Kim, give me a chance. He's not going to be some Hand-of-God, perfect in every conceivable way super-character, though it might seem like that to you, the reader, and a certain worry-some character. He definitely has flaws, is definitely human, and most definitely isn't infallible. I will endeavor to develop him in the finest traditions of dynamic and layered characters found in the series, so I say again, please give him a chance.

Oh, and of course, review.

* * *

Chapter 2: Unconventionally Drakken

Above the burning wreckage of the chair lift streaked an unmarked green and black splashed fighter jet. It had exceptionally aggressive lines, highlighted in dangerous looking forward swept wings, a dagger-like airframe, and an extremely threatening looking pilot. Corkscrewing skyward in a vertical climb, Shego selected another missile barrage, and reaching optimum strike altitude, flattened out and released the deadly payload on the row of emergency evacuation CATS alongside the chalet. The pinpoint accuracy of her attacks ensured that the building itself was not damaged, for it would not do to destroy the valuable new assets that rested within. Now all that remained was the rooftop Griffin helicopter, which she dispatched with a short burst from her fighter's nose cannon. All means of escape destroyed, Shego keyed her communication consol.

"EVAC routes neutralized. 15 minutes and counting Dr. D."

_"Excellent Shego. Provide air cover for the landing teams." _Drakken replied, and with punctuality that most people with any familiarity with the blue doctor's plans would not believe, two large cargo hovercrafts appeared ascending the far side of the north peak. It was because of this uncharacteristic precision that Shego refrained from spitting a rebuttal about her knowing what she had to do to her employer. She could not fault him for trying to keep the operation flawless, even if it was stupendously irritating.

After cresting the peak of the mountain, one of the floating behemoths landed atop the smouldering carcass of the Griffin helicopter, while the other swept in-front of the chalet, its load of henchmen deploying to face the mobilising security CATS. And as the rooftop team stormed the building, Drakken himself stepped onto the exit ramp. He was dressed in a heavy fur lined parka, but when the cold air hit his face he retreated back into the craft once again. He reappeared moments later with a large steaming cup of hot chocolate and a lawn chair, apparently intending to watch the goings-on below.

As the battle developed, superior numbers served the security force little as the element of surprise, the high ground and Shego's air superiority overcame the limitations of the relatively small numbers of the goons and ensured that the chalet's reinforcements were quickly pinned down. The slow moving CATS were unable to avoid Shego's lighting fast but surgically precise missile strikes, and the crews had to bail out or be caught in the destructive forces that were engulfing their vehicles. This left them venerable to the henchmen's small arms fire, and soon they were hopelessly bogged down in the very snow that was supposed to be an element of the defence. For the next 14 minutes and 15 seconds, until the Canadian Air Force had scrambled, Drakken had complete control of the mountain.

(-) (-) (-)

All thoughts of the impressive aerial displays were immediately forgotten by the young men and woman in the terrain park as the mayhem above unfolded. Almost as soon as the action had started, the weather had begun to deteriorate, a cold wind blowing in and the sun disappearing behind cloud cover that had moments ago been nowhere to be seen. Ron had since joined the group at the bottom of the park, and waited impatiently for Kim to decide their next move. In an almost reflexive action, Kim pressed her gauntlet mounted activation pad and both deployed her back-pack contained jump pack and at the same time released the bindings on her snow board. She moved to take off, but realised she was now faced with a difficult choice. She was expected to protect the summit, but ethically she could not ignore the threat that open conflict presented to the innocent patrons of the ski resort. She was about to voice her dilemma to Ron when she noted, not without some trepidation, the action that their recent acquaintances were taking. True to her prediction, Ean was barking orders in a manner not unlike a marine drill sergeant.

"Alright, Gama Protocol boys! You know the drill, get out of those cover outfits. Riley, I told you not to bring your own board, you have to leave it! Carl, hack into the user registry, get us an exact figure on how many people we need to get out of here. Hopefully they will be trying to get off-site on their own, but let's not leave anything to chance, alright? Hop to it, we don't know how long we have to get the civi's off the hill and out of harm's way." At his command, the remaining members of the group that had just convinced Kim that they were nothing more than a particularly skilled bunch of snow boarders stripped off the outer layers of their wardrobe, revealing military jumpsuits lined with equipment laden webbing, accounting for about 20 pounds of hidden gear. Kim wasn't sure what surprised her more; that that despite her initial feelings she had been duped into reversing what had turned out to be an accurate calculation that these men were somehow in deeper than they had admitted, or that they had been able to perform their stunts with all that paraphernalia attached to their bodies. As the ranks of his team sped off on their snow mobiles, leaving their unneeded disguises behind, Ean spun on his heel to face Kim, but did not allow her the opportunity to voice her displeasure.

"Now you can focus on stopping Dr. Drakken, Miss Possible." Noting the beguiled look on the heroine's face, he explained as he removed his helmet, revealing a head of trimmed brown hair. "Couldn't pick between the mission and the bystanders, right? Now you don't have to. Me and my team will get them off the hill, now could you please stop staring at me in disbelief and save the world?" While his preceding actions were anything but casual, his timbre had a light-heartedness that belied the seriousness of the situation.

Despite her anger at being tricked, and the slightly disturbing exactness of his reading of the cause of her indecision, Ean had provided a welcome solution to a very sticky situation. Kim decided that despite what had turned out to be a deceitful first meeting she would have to trust him for now, and if his stated intention to evacuate the skiers below turned out to be genuine, would owe him her thanks after the mission was over. Provided, of course, that the background check she now intended to order from Wade uncovered nothing duplicitous. She turned to her boyfriend as she throttled up her jet-pack's engines.

"Let's go Ron." She said, and lifted off leaving her snowboard behind, in agreement of Ean's statement about the uncertainty of time.

"Right behind you KP." The blonde called to her, punching the same button on his own glove. However, no equivalent carbon composite wings sprung from his backpack. Suddenly the memory that he had not brought his jump pack, but had once again worn his 'blaster briefs' struck him and he grabbed onto his belt in what would likely be a futile effort to keep his pants on. However, luckily for his already bruised pride, the jet powered underwear, soaked when Kim had mischievous buried him in snow, simply sputtered in response to activation, doing little more than smoking slightly and giving their wearer a few discomforting jolts of electricity. Glancing around nervously in the recognition that he could not accompany Kim, Ron's gaze fell upon Ean, who was sitting atop his skidoo, his thumb hovering over the electronic starter and his blue eyes staring back at the embarrassed younger man, awaiting his departure. With the physical tell presented in the blonde's absent minded rubbing of the back of his own neck, Ean engaged the engine and drove up beside his new ally.

"Need a lift?" He asked, none of the disdain that Ron had fully expected this intimidating man's voice to hold towards him, considering his farcical situation. In fact, he was still grinning. Nodding, in a certain amount of innocent confusion, Ron climbed aboard and grasped the webbing on Ean's back. The older man replaced his sunglasses on his face, and closed his palm around the throttle. The tracks dug deeply into the snow, sending the pair speeding to the summit. Ean activated his comm, and spoke into it, informing his team of the alteration in how the operation was going to unfold.

"Indigo to Team Blue. Repeat, Indigo to Team Blue. Change of plans gentlemen. I will be joining Team Red in execution of Beta Protocol. Navy, you are in operational control of Gama Protocol. Confirm reception. Over."

"Navy to Indigo. Reception confirmed, we hear you loud and clear boss. Give 'em hell, we'll take care of Gama. Over."

"Roger, over and out." The considerations of the smoothness of the mission that were currently under his immediate control put to rest, Ean began to come clean about his true intentions to his passenger, seeking to explain his deception so he could depend on his younger man's assistance.

"Sorry Ron, I guess I'm gunna have to state the obvious and tell you the Team Canada thing was bogus. I'd tell you the acronym of who I work for, but you won't recognise it. I'm not saying you're stupid, it's just that only a few people on the planet are 'in the know' about me and my team. Even with GJ, we are classified top secret. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but I'm here for the same reason you and Kim are. Can I count on you to have my back until we get through with stopping Drakken?" Ean glanced into the handle bar mounted rear view mirror, looking for the blonde's response.

Ron took a moment to consider his options. If he didn't go out on a limb and trust Ean, chances were he would not be willing to transport him any farther, and in doing so he knew that the Ron-Factor would become a non-factor in the mission. He would be no good to Kim being left half way up the hill. And in his driver's defence, it did not make any sense to be transporting him to the conflict zone fully conscious and un-bound if Ean was still playing them.

_Unless of course he's expecting me to think it doesn't make any sense for him to be transporting... NO! Will not enter back into that circular argument! _Realising that if the worst case scenario was going to come to pass he was essentially damned if he did, damned if he didn't, Ron did the only thing he could do. He looked to the infinite wisdom of his naked mole rat.

"What do you think buddy?"

It seemed that Rufus had already been considering this very same question, as he did not hesitate very long in presenting a somewhat cautious but favourable thumbs up. With his pet's approval, Ron met Ean's gaze in the mirror and put up his pointer finger.

"One thing. Who's Team Red? "

"That would be you, Kimberly and Rufus." Ean replied, causing Ron to raise his eyebrow in amusement.

"For Kim's hair?" He asked, not completely believing it could be that simple, considering the professionalism that had so far been exhibited by Ean and his team.

"So we aren't the most creative guys in the world! It works doesn't it?" Ean laughed in mock indignation. "I take it that I won't have to worry about you deciding it might be better to throw me under the bus at the wrong moment?" Ron nodded.

"Outstanding," Ean replied, and accelerated further, trying to catch up with the flying member of Team Possible.

(-) (-) (-)

The security forces within the chalet put up a more stubborn resistance than expected, eating up 6 of the precious minutes in which the villains could pull off this heist, before the henchmen were able to reach the strong-room holding the nuclear access devices. As such, the transfer was only just beginning when Kim's back- mounted glider became anything more to the chalet area than an insignificant speck in the vast mountain horizon. Perhaps 200 yards of flight separated the world saving cheerleader from her goal. However, this was when the circling Shego noticed the shwak of auburn hair that was curiously suspended 50 feet in the air.

_So you finally made it to the party, Princess. _The olive skinned villainess thought to herself, suppressing the desire to speak this line of her internal monologue in relief. Though she would share this with no one else, she welcomed the challenge her rival presented to her on a bi-monthly basis. Picking off the helpless security forces and their transport CATS from her vantage point had been marginally entertaining for about 30 seconds before Shego had grown bored. Whatever she thought of her younger opponent, she had to admit their fights were always interesting, and they kept her sharp. Programming the auto pilot to maintain altitude in a holding pattern, Shego pulled the ejection handle, enjoyed the sudden physical rush that the acceleration had on her body and rapidly found herself freefalling over her target. Tightening her limbs against her sides so she was as aerodynamic as possible, she allowed herself to crash into Kim from above and grab onto the parachute fixed atop the booster assembly, her claw-tipped gloves shredding it in the process. The unexpected mechanical force caused Kim to momentarily lose control of the touchy personal transportation device, nearly throwing Shego off just as quickly as she had gotten on. The raven haired woman scrambled to regain her grip. Once she had stabilized herself, she began looking to ground Kim permanently. As the older woman had no means of flight should she be removed from her current precarious purchase on her rival's back, Shego grabbed hold of the jet thruster mounted on the right wing and unhesitantly fried it with a blast of green plasma.

With her jump pack unable to support the mass asked of it on one engine, Kim and her unwanted passenger began to make what barely qualified as a controlled decent to the ground below. When they were only a few feet above the snow, Kim detached from the ruined micro-craft, somersaulting to her feet. Shego leapt off the vehicle after the heroine and engaged her before she had even found her footing.

(-) (-) (-)

Being distracted by her much more visible and seemingly much more dangerous rival, Shego could not have paid any less attention to the skidoo that tore its own path to the summit just a few dozen yards away from where she fought Kimberly, had she even noticed it in the first place. But the snow mobile did not have nearly the optical profile that a personal jump pack did, being low to the ground, half buried by the drifts of snow in fact, with an obscuring cloud of atomized ice created by the wash of the snow it disturbed. This being opposed to being suspended high above the ground in a completely coverless environment, strapped to something that produced enough secondary visual cues to compete with the pyrotechnic displays of a Super Bowl Halftime Show. The blessing that their propulsion did not produce what essentially amounted to a signalling beacon in the two bright cones of heated exhaust gases, and dual streams of condensed vapour leading directly towards where they were located like a massive arrow, also made a fair contribution to Ron and Ean's avoidance of detection.

With the most observant and intelligent member of Drakken's strike force completely preoccupied with hand to hand combat and unable to serve her duties as field commander, the remaining goons were of no consequence to the quickly ascending pair of men. Their lines were beginning to collapsing of their own accord, as without Shego's air support and strategic orders, the sheer numbers of security forces were finally beginning to make a difference in turning the tide of the battle. In fact, the only opposition to reaching the chalet came from within the duo efforting that goal.

Seeing the love of his life beset by the plasma-wreathed form of Shego was never an easy scene to be comfortable with, and the thought of leaving her to handle the very lethal Shego herself was almost impalpable, despite the fact that Kim was more than capable of doing so. This chivalrous streak took him by surprise and proceeded to convince his muscles to make the necessary actions to throw himself off the still moving motorized sled. However, an unexplained force prevented this foolhardy act. Upon further struggling Ron realised he was held in place by Ean's light but unyielding grasp.

"Let me go! I have to help her!" Ron exclaimed, still governed by a concern for Kim that showcased the best qualities of chauvinism. But Ean did not relinquish his grip. And despite Ron's excited attempts to free himself from said hold, it did not seem that Ean was placing even a marginal effort into keeping the blonde still, though he still managed to keep the younger man firmly in place.

"Kim can take care of herself, you know that Ron. We, on the other hand, have some ground to make up. Drakken's boarding the hover-craft, and you know what that means. Closing time, last call. Let her deal with Shego, we need make sure blue boy doesn't get away. Now hold on Stoppable, this could get a little rough."

(-) (-) (-)

Sure enough, as Ron ceased his struggles and looked uphill, he could see Drakken, having finished his hot beverage, folding up his lawn chair and heading back inside the hull of the hovercraft, which was now fully loaded with doomsday devices of a conventional, but no less deadly variety. It had been a red letter day for the evil genius, who cackled maniacally from the side door overlooking the battle. The security forces had now rallied and were making a final thrust towards the chalet as his henchmen fell back in a full retreat towards their transport. It no longer mattered, however. They had served their purpose in keeping the majority of the security at bay while the second team of goons ran-sacked the chalet, making off with enough N.A.D.'s, as Drakken called them (he still did not understand why whoever was around when he referred to the nuclear access devices in that way would struggle to contain bouts of laughter) to make him an international force second only to the superpowers. Before any of the militaries from which the weapons came from could react, he would launch the devices and cold-deploy them to a location of his choosing, gather them up and re-assemble them on rockets of his own design. Finally, he had proven that he was the greatest super genius the world had ever known, and he could not wait to return to his lair to see the look on the face of his would-be equal.

"Pilot, let's roll! They ain't gunna catch me ridin' dirty!" He called up to the flight deck. Hidden from their boss's field of view by the high-backed crash seats, the henchman piloting the craft slapped his forehead while his co-pilot stifled a snigger at Drakken's pathetic attempt at being hip. After a moment in which they contained their amusement, lest their employer decide to join them in the cockpit, they primed the engines. The quad turbojets slowly came to life, sluggish from the colder temperatures found atop the mountain. It would only be a few moments for the lubricants to be warm enough to fully engage the engines and take off, and then they could make good on their escape.

(-) (-) (-)

Hearing the whine of the turbo-jet's idlers, Ean realised they could not make it to the roof in time on foot. So, he slammed the handle bars hard left, surging away from the chalet entrance and towards a small patch of flat land beside the building. Noticing with some misgivings considering Ean's less than confirmed allegiances that they were no longer heading directly towards their prescribed goal, Ron spoke up from behind his driver.

"Umm... Ean, Drakken's in the other direction."

"I know. No time to check our luggage, just enough to 'jump' a flight." Ean replied, chuckling. When Ron did not join him, Ean sighed at what he had to admit was a very bad example of combat humour. "You'll get it in a second," he assured the blonde.

Reaching the end of the flats, Ean swung the skidoo's ski's hard right, leaning into the turn, and aligned the sled's nose with the inclined roof of the chalet that reached to the snow bank below it. Ron realised just what Ean was thinking as the older man squeezed the throttle to its stop, and whatever words of protest that were forming in the blonde's larynx were lost to the roar of the unmuffled two stroke engine. The track churned the snow beneath it into a massive rooster tail, and in less time than it took for Ron to realise his objections were futile, they had crossed the distance between their former position and the make-shift jump. The sled mounted the chalet's soffits in a jarring collision, but managed to match the angle without overturning, and continued to accelerate. They crested the peak the roof just as Drakken's hovercraft, engines now at nominal operating temperature, rose into the sky.

(-) (-) (-)

Oblivious to the activities above them, Kim and Shego fought. And, although the snow, knee deep at best, hampered their usually fast paced and graceful dance, it would be the very definition of ignorance to say it was any less violent.

"Where's your boyfriend, princess?" Shego asked, the usual patronizing edge sharp in her voice. Combat with an opponent as skilled as Kimberly Anne as always a multi-dimensional affair to Shego, body and mind both equally important, and thus requiring equal attention. Broken bones, ruptured spleens, contused eye sockets and the like were fantastic, but one could not be certain that their opponent was truly defeated unless the physiological field was dominated as well. In fact, the only time Shego had ever seen Kim actually beaten, no matter the legions of henchmen surrounding her or the banks of death rays pointed in her direction, was in an instance where she was more or less unscathed physically, but emotionally shattered in the realisation that the boy she had fallen for was merely a facet of a plot by Drakken.

Complete physiological collapse was not something Shego sought at this moment, however much she wished to see Kim in that state once again. Just enough of a verbal component to help her physical offence to be more efficient would suffice. And recently nothing made Kim slip up more than bringing Stoppable into their linguistic sparing sessions. Predictably, Kim momentarily lost focus, realising that Ron was indeed no-where to be seen. That split second was all the time the dark haired combatant needed to force a roundhouse kick through Kim's defences, catching the heroin at shoulder height, knocking her to the ground. The red-head floundered in the snow for a few seconds before rolling to the right and regaining her footing, just in time to narrowly avoid a heel stomp that would have broken her jaw. Kim responded in kind with a series of aggressive jabs, before shifting her style of martial art from Karate to Tae-kwon-do. This was less for any combative advantage than to keep the blood flowing to her legs, which were threatening to become an encumbrance as the cold sapped their strength. If being soaked in melted snow was affecting Shego, it did not show as she deflected Kim's counter strikes with relative ease. Once she was set in her new fighting technique, Kim hurled a verbal barb of her own.

"Jealous I can call someone that, Shego? I'd have to admit I would be too if there weren't any guys willing to touch me without welding gloves, much less want to be around me any more than absolutely necessary." The pronouncement earned Kim a near face-full of the very stuff that any man insane enough to seek Shego's affections would need the heat resistant PPE for, her green tinged plasma.

Shego quickly recomposed herself from her near loss of control. Whenever Kimmie rebuked her taunts with a comment about her romantic life, she struck a deeper nerve than she could ever be allowed to know. Luckily, Shego almost always was able to disguise her own slip of emotional hegemony and channel it into her violent passion. Being in a profession where sentimental baggage was a liability, she kept her underlying feelings on a far tighter leash then the hormonal teenager. Shego allowed a bit of her bitterness about the whole affair made it into her response, however. It was a good a motivation for hating Kim as any, and contributed munitions that were just as useful.

"You mean you finally got him to stomach the idea of _being_ with you? Here I always thought it was the Buffoon's one good instinct to lose consciousness when you decided to get amorous around him. The thought of you like that..." Shego shivered for effect, "he's braver than I thought. But then again, maybe that's why he isn't here." The olive skinned villainess's dig struck a parallel cord in Kim's mind to her own, sending Kim's focus back into discourse.

"He's around, don't worry Shego." Kim answered haughtily, not trusting her deeply wounded pride to come up with a more daring reply. _Thanks for being here to back me up for that one Ron._ She thought, as a pang of genuine annoyance travelled through her mind. Almost as soon as she thought it, she suppressed it. _He has a good reason not to be here, _she re-assured her prickly ego.

_That, or he thinks he's found two identical snowflakes,_ it replied irritably. Kim began to scold herself for doubting Ron, inspiring another instant of hesitation, taking her mind from Shego. The villainess capitalized on this fleeting moment of inattentiveness yet again, this time floating a powerful side kick into the younger woman's abdomen. Such was the force that it lifted Kim from the snow, and lofted her into the hard trunk of a tree situated directly behind her. She slid down, dazed into immobility. Shego casually sauntered over like a cat cavalierly slinks towards a cornered mouse, igniting her palms once again. The scent of victory was in the air.

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Another shameless cliffhanger. I'm really not sure if I'm too fastidious in describing a scene over several chapters. Hopefully it doesn't seem as if the story is dragging along. 


End file.
